Having had the privilege of being able to participate in this summer’s inaugural Amahoro Institutes in Uganda and Burundi,  I am so thankful to report that a new generation of African leaders are on the ever-closer horizon.
I had the good fortune to make friends with Emmanuel Oliam in Uganda, who told me over hot mashed matoke that “As sons of Africa, we must learn from the mistakes of the older generation of leaders.  We must make a better way.  Our future lies in our ability to rise up as the fresh generation, striving to live out God’s true calling for Africa”.  Emmanuel has every intention of being one of those leaders, as he wraps up his university studies next year and looks toward pursuing a career in political leadership.

I met a friend Micheline Barandereka, who is struggling through what it means to be a female pastor in the male-dominated culture of Burundi.  I spoke with new friend Jean Pierre Niyonzima, who narrowly escaped death in the Burundian genocide in 1994, and now travels around spreading the message of reconciliation and active peacemaking.  Their stories challenge my understandings of faith and inspire me to new levels of courageous living.

What came alive at these gatherings was the sense of local community.  Within their context, within each set of friends, those in Bujumbura and those in Kampala, common threads were discovered of struggle, hardship and joy.  The recognition of a brotherhood and sisterhood of local leaders was a joy to behold.  In this lies the true beauty of the Amahoro Institutes: they provide a liminal public square to discover what it means to be a follower of Jesus as a Ugandan, a Burundian, or a South African.

One of the friends I met, Hannah Nayoge, is a beautiful young woman who is working on a public health degree in Kampala.  After a long few days of deconstructing old theologies, Hannah and I had a conversation in which she told me she was tired.  Tired of it all. Tired of a world hurting and a church content to turn its back and make lofty pronunciations on the eternal fate of outsiders.  Tired of performing the mental gymnastics of truly wrestling with what it means to follow Jesus.  “But”, she said, smiling hopefully at me, “something new is coming.  I feel it”.

As I’ve reflected on that moonlit conversation, and of our laughter as we slapped mosquitoes away in the velvety African night, I’m left with a profound feeling of thankfulness for how inspired and encouraged I’ve been by Hannah’s simple words.  In a world that is longing for the true healing from our brokenness, Hannah and our other African friends are right.
Something new is coming.

I have handled a lot of various currency this summer; the Ugandan schilling, Rwandan francs, some South African Rand, Burundian francs and the US dollar. The exchange rate fluctuates with each day, each country, and the movement of each market. Some days our own currency is strong where we are, and we seem to get more than we invest. Other days we know that we are getting the weaker end of the exchange, losing with the current climate of the markets. But we must engage in the exchange if we intend to stay somewhere for very long, to have the ability to get what we need (or want) while visiting this new place. So we exchange our currency when we arrive to a new country and hope for the best.

When we gathered together for the South African Institute on the first winter evening, we each came with currency in our pockets. Not rand or dollars, but the currency of our own unique story. We each hold this currency very close to our heart, and we are careful how we exchange it and with whom. Our story, and as a result how we see the world, is of utmost value and something we are not eager to squander. There is a fair bit of discernment that happens internally before we share the most true and treasured parts of our story. No one wants to show their local currency and then get a bad exchange rate, and therefore have their own currency devalued. So when we first arrived to this new place and encountered this new context, we have to determine how to engage in the dance of the exchange rate.

We all were gathered by our mutual friend, Marius Brand. There is some safety in knowing him as a fixed point in our fluctuating market. We also could guess that everyone convened cared about the future of the new South Africa and believed that Jesus has something to say on that type of transformation. But we were an extremely diverse group, as I looked around the circle; English and Afrikaans, Colored, Xhosa, Zulu, Xhoi Xhoi and a couple of Americans. What are the chances that the exchange rate among us would be good, that there would be ample stability for good interactions? Would some trade high and others walk away with less? This is the risk of true conversation, when we all have our currency in our pocket and make those decisions about how volatile we perceive the market to be.

So we began… Marius offering a word of welcome and I offering a word of context. Next was a good conversation about… conversation. How do we encounter others, how do we determine who we are with and what we assume about them? What happens within us, each one of us, that allow us to share or withhold, to trust others or remain slightly suspicious. And then he laid down the gantlet; he challenged us each to verbalize our own biases, as we looked around the room. He asked us, in reality, to confess the things that might hinder us in connecting with the others gathered around the circle. You can only imagine the thick silence, as we all held our currency in our hands, buried in our pockets. Will I be brave enough to say what I fear, what I assume about you, what fear that you will assume about me?

An amazing thing happened… one man did. He pulled out the currency in his hand and showed it to us. He told us a deeply true nugget of his story, revealing who he understood himself to be in the South African context. And he shared how hard it would be if we were unable to validate this part of himself. And everyone listened intently. And then another one shared. Then another shared. And then… all 25 of us had shared our biases, our fears, our stories. And we discovered there was this common currency between us, a currency that had shared value where none was diminished. None of us left that room getting the sorry end of the exchange rate, as a matter of fact I think we each traded high. I think when we were each brave enough to share our personal currency, our story, with the others we left with a full pocket and a full heart.

This first night we arrived with our currency and made the necessary exchange. And we found that with the stellar exchange rate that night, we had more than enough for the conversations to come in the days ahead. We cut through superficiality and went to substance, and that held true for the entire time we shared together. This common currency created a rich environment for us to be our most honest selves with one another. We could be open about where we came from, how we see the world, why we misunderstand each other’s world… and find ways to connect with one another based on this common currency. I often marveled at the truth-telling and honesty I witnessed that first night in South Africa. Imagine the friendships that grow from such a night?

South Africa High Note:
One of the great joys of the Amahoro Institute in South Africa is that all the teachers were African! It was a great delight to be taught by friends and scholars from the African continent, with no need to bring in outside teaching assistance. So we were really given a teaching experience that mirrored the cultural background of the group gathered - no translation or explanations necessary! Marius Brand coordinated the event from start to finish, and he was the one who recruited the teaching team for this Amahoro conversation. Many thanks to Marius for all his hard work in pulling together such a great group of both instructors and participants!
This is one of the highlights from this Institute - one fully operated by our African friends. For Claude and I, this is the ultimate dream for all the Amahoro Institutes in the future - that Africans are the primary instructors and leaders of these learning sessions. We know that there is a depth of knowledge, wisdom and contextual understanding among our African friends that can be a great blessing to their fellow Africans. So we are eager to create space for Africans to teach and learn together, and try our best to not get in the way! We are already gleaning lessons learned from these African instructors (as well as those from Burundi and Uganda) and plan to shape the Amahoro Institute accordingly next season. But I will always remember South Africa with a particular fondness, as they are the first to have an all African teaching team, demonstrating that they can instruct within their context with great depth, dexterity and wit!

This summer we successfully launched the first series of the Amahoro Institute in Uganda, Burundi and South Africa.  This was created to be a regional conversation, bringing leaders together for further conversation and allowing their shared proximity to give rise to new relationships and collaborations in their home city.  On the final day of these sessions, the question always asked was, ”What is next?”

We believe the next step is a collaboration between Amahoro Africa and TREK.  Our friends Wes White and Andrew Perriman, who were both with us in Kigali this summer, are skilled at hosting theological reflection in a relational context.  They have shared their interest in hosting such a discussion in Africa, taking the conversation of reconciliation to the next level in terms of theological reflection and practice in the local context.  Our hope is to host an intimate gathering of 10-12 leaders this fall in Kenya for such a time of shared discussion, discovery and even dreaming.

TREK (Theological Resourcing for an Emerging Kultur) is a small-scale initiative to help churches and communities of faith (mostly in Europe) to reflect theologically on their life and mission.  They have developed a simple learning model of conversation around a local table.  They encourage an informal but serious collaborative engagement in key issues relating to mission in an emerging culture as they are encountered in a local context.  Once you’ve met them, you know that they enjoy themselves in the process!  (You can learn more about TREK at www.localtable.org)

Our Kenyan friends are excited to continue the conversation about reconciliation in the wake of the post-election violence they experienced just last year.  They want the church to be a prophetic voice in their communities, and see this more condensed conversation as one tool that will bear good fruit for them as leaders of fractured communities.  They are eager to receive Wes and Andrew and dialogue and learn together this November.

In order for this collaboration to happen this fall, we will need some assistance with funding.  We anticipate needed at least $1500 to make this next level of conversation a reality.  If you were in Kigali this summer, you know that we only began the work reconciliation requires in our various countries.  This is a tangible way to come alongside our Kenyan friends and partner with them as they continue this conversation in their community.  Please consider this opportunity to further the conversation and deepen the practice of reconciliation in the name of Jesus in Kenya.

All checks can be sent to Amahoro Africa, P. O. Box 8867 Surprise, AZ 85379 with a note on the memo line: Kenya TREK. You can also donate online at www.amahoro-africa.org

Amahoro,
Kelley Johnson

By Curtis Love

It’s been a month now since I have returned from the Rwanda experience, and I can feel there are levels of the experience that I may never be able to ever fully articulate. I can safely say I will never be the same person. While there were many thoughts and quests that arose during and after the conference, there is one particular experience and point of clarity that I have decided to try and wrestle into words. The ‘revelation’ is simple enough and yet at the time of ‘receiving’ it, it was really tough to get my head around. In the last few years something has begun to stir in me as I have lived and studied in my homeland of South Africa (I am a 5th generation white South African) I have felt a strong sense of dis-ease within myself, something I haven’t quite been able to put my finger on or nail down. I am sure there is more than one factor contributing to my dis-ease but one that become somewhat more clear to me at the conference is the fact that I am lost, homeless, a stranger in my land…let me explain.

While it is true that I am of European descent, I have no idea where my ancestors came from (my parents tell me Scotland) but the reality is I have no connection (in terms of relatives) to Europe other than my white skin. Many people that I have encountered from abroad are unaware that there is a large English speaking population of White people in South Africa. Most people are aware of the Afrikaans speaking White people in South Africa (of Dutch descent). The interesting thing to note about the Afrikaners (which is indicated by their name, for Afrikaner means African) is that they as a culture have intentionally severed their roots with their ‘homeland’, no longer thinking of themselves as Europeans but rather as white Africans. This is reflected in Afrikaans leader’s rhetoric in discussing the place of the Afrikaner in the New South Africa, arguing that they are African’s and not foreigners. The majority of the English community seems to be much less intentional about this whole process and in a sense have been neither ‘here nor there’ when it comes to the question of identity. I often joke describing English (South African) culture as been unperturbed as to who is in power in South Africa (or whether they refer to ‘us’ as Africans or westerners/Europeans) as long as they get their paycheck at the end of the month! English South Africans (this is a generalisation but seems to be true in my experience) tend to be the most politically apathetic group in South Africa, but touch there pockets and all of a sudden they are out there canvassing support for political revolution.

There seems to be a lack of clarity as to the identity of English speaking South Africans, are we Africans? Are we Europeans living in Africa, thus not making us African but actually European? Or are we some kind of hybrid, Euro-Africans as Steve Biko classified whites living in South Africa? These are questions that have been troubling me for some time now and were intensified and (somewhat) clarified at the Amahoro experience.

In my high school history class, I began to develop a great love for Africa in general and South Africa in particular and so would often proudly declare ‘I am an African’ to my White friends who often found this ‘exotic’ at best or perturbing at worst (many white people in South Africa still think of Africa as ‘out there’).  As I finished high school and continued reading African and South African History/philosophy I was introduced to the discussion of African Identity, i.e. ‘what makes someone African?’ Is it their skin colour or their geographical location? Or their culture or their commitment to the future of Africa? Is there something we can call ‘Africaness’ that distinguishes ‘Africaness” from ‘Europeaness or ‘Asianess’ and what is that ‘Africaness’? This began to raise questions within myself as to my confident high school declaration that ‘I am an African’.

Coupled with this was a growing awareness of the violent past which South Africa had experienced (at the hands of my people). Not only was I beginning to doubt my ‘Africaness’, for by my own evaluation, my culture, language, skin colour and way of being in this world was in no way African, but now I was beginning to realise that I was also a ‘foreigner’ in this land. In fact not only was I a foreigner but a violent, oppressive foreigner at that. My descendants had come here, stealing land, killing people and their cultures, in the name of God, civilisation and commercialisation. They then actively contributed to and supported the construction of one of the most dehumanising systems our world has come to see (Apartheid) of which I am a (economic and social) beneficiary.  All theses questions swirled around in me, creating a confusing and overwhelming white-noise (no pun intended) within myself as I struggled to figure out my (peoples) place in South Africa. There were two things I was certain of 1) Europe was not my home, although I acknowledge that my culture could broadly be defined as Western in assumptions, outlook and practice, Africa was my birthplace, the only soil I had touched. 2) I Love Africa, this is the continent in which my Western cultural heritage has been lived out, hopefully in a more humble, generous and self-critical way than my forefathers? Africa is not an abstraction for me, but a reality within which I interact in on a daily basis, a reality in which I hope to be part of the solution and not the problem. Sadly I think my culture is often part of the problem, pessimistic, prejudiced, narrow-minded, overly confident about ‘the way things are’ or ‘the way things should be’ but there are signs of hope (which is to say signs of God) as some people in my culture begin to open their eyes to our own violence, both past and present.

I think one part of being an African is being committed to the future of Africa and her people, in all their beauty. In which case I could call myself an African without denying the obvious heritage that is mine. This cultural heritage of mine is now seen in a new light is always reflected on in light of its possible contributions to the future of Africa, which will at times cause me to seriously doubt some of my these assumptions about ‘the way things are’ or the ‘way things should be’ and other times may cause me to take on new assumptions from others who are committed to the future of Africa. I long to learn from the hills and grasslands of the continent of birth, I long to be shaped by the stories of its people. I long to invite the stories of Africa to shape my inherited story, shedding light, critiquing and complimenting it, making me a more whole and rounded human being.

The intensity of Amahoro at times was overwhelming but it also provided the place for a ‘forging in the flames’. I was confronted with the violent history of my people and have accepted that history as a part of my story and identity. I have accepted these dehumanising, shameful, violent and unfathomable acts as well as the possibility that if I were in the same position I would have possibly done the same thing. In a strange way the acceptance of the violence of my past is liberating, I ‘stared the beast in the eye’ so to speak and instead of rendering me guilt ridden and overwhelmed it has given me perspective, infused me with vitality to strengthen my resolve to be committed to peace, humility and justice. It has also made me much more sensitive to the subtle (as damaging?) forms of violence that permeate our language and actions.

The great irony I have come to understand in this journey is that my violent past could be the very means of my salvation into a more peaceful future closer aligned to the way of the Great Teacher.

Thank you so much (words are inadequate) to all at Amahoro for been a catalyst for change and renewal in our lives as we seek to be people who truly follow in the humble and peaceful way of our teacher Jesus.

I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to have participated in the Amahoro-Africa Gathering in Rwanda. It was a beautiful time of friendship making with some really fun and amazing people from around the world. I was inspired at so many levels to hear their stories of engagement in local and global endeavors addressing situations of injustice, human rights, AIDS, micro-financing and community development as followers of Jesus. I now have friends who are actively involved in peace-making efforts in the conflicts in Kenya, Mozambique and South Africa. Lila Pilamaya (thank you very much) Claude and Kelley for being invited to the party!

The story of the past twenty years of Rwanda was heartbreaking, tragic beyond comprehension, confusing and inspiring. The horrors of colonization are evident globally. The genocide that ultimately happened as the direct result of social engineering attempts on the part of the Belgian regime to scientifically classify the Tutsi tribe as being superior to the Hutu (size of head, wideness of nose, set of eyes, height, etc.) and thus preferring them in assigning roles of power in the colonial system of government established. This created the environment which led to animosity between these tribes who share the same language and have a long-standing history of shared living and relationship between them.

Visiting the mass grave sites where 200,000 people were buried along with the 2 catholic churches that were massacre sites of 5000 in one and 20,000 in another was numbing. Seeing the blood stained and dirt covered clothes from all the victims scattered in the churches along with hundreds of unclaimed skeletal remains, including skulls carefully lined up in rows on shelves, seemed so unreal as to be staged.

I had taken tobacco ties with me (small cloth pouches filled with tobacco) thinking I may need them. Among many of our tribes tobacco is considered a sacred herb and used for prayer, blessing and truth-telling. At a church, I felt deeply compelled to sing a song of remembrance and put tobacco on the shelf with the rows of skulls. The skeletal remains were not enclosed in any way. If you wanted you could touch them. I asked two men from Africa to stand with me as our group had moved away from this spot. I sang a traditional style native song of mourning and remembrance for these people. Many in the building began to weep as the Spirit of the Lord visited with us. After I finished I wept too.

Listening to Hutu believers confess their stories of shame, guilt and sorrow for what they had done and saw the forgiveness that was exhibited by the Tutsi believers toward them inspired hope in me. I was completely blown away! I cannot relate to that depth of forgiveness. Listening to Freda tell how the attackers lined her entire family up in a pit and murdering her mother, caved her brothers and sisters heads in with clubs and finally clubbed her and buried them all, then to see her so clothed in the love and mercy of God was beyond my ability to “get.”

As a First Nations Christ-follower in the United States, I too am confronted with 400 years of genocide, colonial oppression and the devastation of American imperialism among our tribal people. We are still here. Christianity is considered the “white man’s religion” and still attempts to assimilate us culturally as part of its evangelization efforts.

Jesus is amazing! His love for us in the midst of our brokenness is way too good to be true and calls me to be conformed to his likeness and image! I am reminded of the Father’s grace and goodness in my life and challenged again to love and walk as Jesus walked among his followers, critiques, opponents and enemies.

Peace, as you walk in the Jesus Way!

Richard Twiss, Rosebud Lakota/Sioux Tribe
Wiconi International (www.wiconi.com)

Uganda July 1-4, 2008

By Sarah Gonski

“The hope of Africa is in the young, emerging, innovative, resourceful leaders. Amahoro is committed to these leaders because they are the hope of Africa. They are not waiting for donations or from permission from an NGO or government. They are out there, working hard in their own communities and contexts, following the call. The only invitation they need is Jesus.” – Kelley Johnson Nikondeha
With these words of purpose, the inaugural Amahoro Summer Institute in Kampala, Uganda was officially under way. Last week, forty emerging leaders from East Africa came together at this event to discuss what it means to be a transformational leader in the way of Jesus.
Our discussion aimed to address three main questions relating to theology, context and praxis. We asked:
What is the story of God? How does the story of God collide with our local story? How do I live out the story of God in my unique context?
Throughout our time together, we had stimulating conversations on the role of culture in faith, and how our allegiance to a denomination, a country or a framing story can all too easily co-opt our allegiance to Jesus or skew his message. Time spent in dialogue and learning was sprinkled liberally with more concentrated time in small groups. This small group time was a crucial part of the conversation, and created space for us to communally process through the theological heft of the seminar sessions.

We also had lively discussions on the various ways in which we have read our story into Scripture. We reflected on how we often fail to see the story of the Bible as continuous, and can sometimes get stuck in various portions of the story, such as the Fall or the early church. As a consequence, we sometimes fail to fully live into our unique stories because we get stuck trying to live into the lost context of a past.

As pastor and board member Tim Keel says, there are “three things Amahoro does well: create space for theological discussion, create relational space, and create transformational space”. Through these Institutes, we aim to provide a safe and fertile environment for generative theological discussion and for new relationships to blossom. By encouraging our friends in attendance to ask questions, challenge themselves in new ways, and to be a part of the fluid dynamic of the conversation, we are inviting them to shape the event in whatever ways are particularly relevant in their local context..

Within the next few weeks, we will be hosting similar gatherings in Burundi and South Africa. Please pray with us, as each unfolds, that those in attendance would find their time together to be a blessing!

1. We need to understand the difference between mercy and justice (see Micah 6:8). Mercy means relieving the suffering of people who are victims of injustice. Justice means addressing the systemic abuses of power that plunge people into suffering.

2. Both are important. But if we only do mercy, we end up assisting those who perpetrate injustice by “cleaning up the mess” that they create.

3. For Americans (and other Westerners), we can do mercy by giving money, etc. Justice is often more costly for us, but it is often the place where we can have the most impact.

4. Many of the systemic injustices that plunge Africans into suffering arise in the West. For example,
a) Unjust trade policies in the West keep Africans from being able to compete in world economic markets. Bread for the World has excellent information on this kind of injustice - especially relating to the U.S. Farm Bill, which subsidizes US farmers (of cotton, for example) in ways that hurt African farmers.

b) When the US government supports dictators (in “the war on terror” for example), it hurts Africans who suffer under their regimes.

c) When the West ignores Africa - as it did in Rwanda in 1994 and is still doing in Sudan and Congo today - it aids and abets those doing injustice.

d) When the West elects candidates without vetting them for their commitment to Africa, it perpetuates an elitism that hurts Africans.

5. One of the ways Westerners can make a big difference is through fair trade. This involves seeing every dollar we spend as a vote for a “candidate company.” When we spend money on careless companies, we vote for injustice. When we spend money with companies who deal fairly with Africans, we vote for justice.

6. One of the most important things we can do is educate ourselves for sustained action over the long term. If people want to learn more about these issues, my book Everything Must Change could be of help, along with everythingmustchange.org.

7. We in the amahoro community need to develop a list of key organizations that are doing holistic ministry in Africa - And my guess is that new ministries need to be started - addressing issues like national debt, weapons dealing, free press and just journalism, land reform and land ownership for landless people, improving access to international markets, etc.

After my 10 days in Rwanda, going from one Genocide Memorial Site to another, from Museum to Church - meeting people from the Hutu, Tutsi and Twa and listening to their stories of horror and suffering, starving and brutal killings — but also about the enormous effort the Churches (and the Government) are now making to promote mutual acceptance, repentance, forgiveness, healing, unity and peace - which was deeply disturbing and moving  - I was and am heartbroken about the horror of what is now happening here! Here, where the miracle of 1994 had been an example for all the world!

It will take me a long time to process all the info from Rwanda — and some-how I am deeply concerned that this “forced” forgiveness and unity is much too soon and “too easy” and there-fore - even if they are absolutely serious about it and use all the best methods at their disposal - that it is more like papering over differences, shallow — in stead of doing a thorough surgical procedure, cleaning the wound and letting it drain and slowly heal from the inside…

And OUR wounds? So many of them, originating in the previous era of Apartheid, are still open and bleeding - and others are deliberately opened again and again.  Those that ARE healing have only JUST started to close from the inside out.  Now, once again, new injustice, new wounds, new pain — and new hatreds are born — partially because the old hatreds have not been addressed properly.  Now, a new group of people will want revenge…

In spite of the wonderful work which the TRC did, those who were either victims or perpetrators during the previous regime in SA have not been sufficiently counseled and accompanied on their way of processing that which had happened to them, their parents and grandparents. The result is that many young people amongst those who were previously dis-empowered and discriminated against today have this attitude of entitlement, coupled with the wrong perception of what democracy is all about. They feel they have a right to those things other people have to work for - and that democracy means: ‘I can do, or refuse to do, whatever I like without taking responsibility for myself, my family, my country….

Expatriates, on the other hand, even though they had to suffer many things, have come to SA to make a new beginning. They are willing to work very hard for little money.  Of course there are, as in every nation, some criminals, but, on the whole, they are honest people who have been trained in different skills. The forte many of them have is private enterprise. Others are professionals who bring their side in the companies where they have been appointed…

Shared by Annemie in an email after the The Gathering hosted by Amahoro Africa in Rwanda.  The processing continues as we each return to our home countries, our local contexts and we see afresh the need for deep reconciliation. K. Johnson